Do It For The Hype
by brijbautista
Summary: Araminta Lee thought nothing of it when Astrid Leong pretended to be her date to get out of an ex-boyfriend predicament. It was only for 15 minutes, no big deal. But, things take a complicated turn when Astrid suggests that they keep fake-dating to generate hype for Araminta's new hotel. The city's #1 socialite creating buzz for her first solo project? How could Araminta refuse?
1. Chapter 1

"Araminta! Araminta!"

"Araminta! Over here, please!"

The click of camera shutters welcomed me as I walked down the red carpet of The Tattler's 40 Under 40 Gala. White flashes of light licked every single inch of my Simone Rocha floral patchwork silk dress and rose-gold Jimmy Choo pumps like an insatiable beast. I wore my patent half-smile, not looking at any one camera. Well, except for the one on my payroll, of course. Where's that little monkey? Ah, there he is. I turned towards Johnny, my personal photographer, for one last red-carpet shot.

"Araminta Lee, what are you wearing?" A perky news anchor in a cheap suit said, adding ten more e's to the end of my name. It's just two e's, man. It's not that hard. I tried to sidestep him, but goodness, these pesky media people were getting better and better at ambushing people.

"Oh, this?" I said, with a polite chuckle. "Just some of my hauls during my recent trip to New York."

"Absolutely gorgeous. You're a shoo-in for Star Of The Night!"

Yeah, in an ideal world, that would be true. One sweep of the crowd, and it was easy to tell that everyone here was collectively pedestrian. Yes, yes, in an ideal world, I would be a shoo-in. Just write my name on the plaque before I even arrive. But, this wasn't an ideal world. This was a world where Astrid Leong, fashion savant and #1 socialite per the unofficial rankings at , lived and walked and breathed.

"Let's hope so," I said to the interviewer, smiling ever so politely before walking into the reception hall. Forty minutes in, I kinda wished I had stayed home. Why did Mom have to send me to this event, when I could be living it up in Shanghai or Hongkong? For the Paraiso Club, I told myself. For the hotel that I was about to launch two months from now.

I could barely stay awake through the program, so I went out to the al fresco bar to freshen up with a drink. Speak of the devil, who else would I find seated in the darkest corner of the balcony but Astrid Leong herself. Imagine my shock when I found her wearing a cream, run-of-the-mill, Zara jumpsuit and gold strapped sandals.

Has God fallen to earth? Has hell frozen over? What on earth was going on?

I sidled up to the empty seat beside her, and propped my elbows on the counter. I asked the waiter for a bellini, before turning to Astrid.

"Really? Zara?" I asked, unable to mask the dismay in my voice. "You're the only competition I have in this ho-hum crowd. Girl, if you had sent out feelers that you weren't competing, I could have just worn my silk Annabel Lee Hotel monogrammed pajamas and called it a night."

Astrid refused to look at me, instead keeping her eyes trained on the marble counter.

"Nice touch with the Etruscan bangles. But, you know as well as I do that this gen-pop crowd wouldn't know gold-plated aluminum wire from 6 B.C. bling."

She shook the bangles slightly. That was as good a bite as I was gonna get.

"Astrid, you're losing your touch."

Still silent, she gripped her glass of scotch so tightly I feared she would break it. Then, she gulped the whole thing down, with only the slightest of winces. I counted the number of glasses in front of her. There's a flute. A brandy glass. A small gold-rimmed shot glass.

"And finding your liquor, it seems."

I tsk-tsked before I sipped my own drink. Good god, this was a bad batch. What did they put in here? Overripe peaches and piss? I coughed out the awful taste inside my mouth, which Astrid mistook as another attempt to rile her up.

"Can you just leave me alone, Araminta?" she finally spoke, her voice slightly slurred.

Arms half-raised in mock surrender, I jumped off the stool and was about to leave her to a speed-date session with all the alcohol known to humanity, when Michael Teo sauntered into our dark corner. He sported a weird-ass blue-plaid suit that Astrid would have burned and exiled to Antarctica if they were still together.

"Astrid? Why are you here, all sad and alone?" Michael greeted. The condescending way he said 'sad and alone' made me want to punch him in the face. "Come sit with us. I would love for you to meet Patti."

"Michael, thank you, but I have company."

"Where? Who are you with?"

I turned around to leave. I meant to keep myself out of fucked-up ex drama-slash-power-play when smooth fingers suddenly wove themselves with mine. Just at the last minute. Right, at first, I was dismissed so crudely. But, now, I passed for company. I wanted to say "So, I'm company now?" but bit my tongue at the look of panic in Astrid's face.

Michael scoffed, waiting for the right time to expose this sham and bury Astrid a little deeper in. This little poser. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Good God almighty, did this guy deserve a beating with his smug face and underhanded jabs.

"Really? She's your date?" Michael asked, still in disbelief, still waiting for Astrid to fess up. It seemed like Astrid was on the verge of coming clean. _Girl, don't give him the satisfaction._ So much for keeping out of the drama. In one smooth motion, I untangled my hand from Astrid's and placed it on her waist.

"Yeah, really." I looked him in the eye, my own eyes aching from trying not to blink. Michael probably did a head-to-head of our net worth in that bird brain of his, and made the wise decision to shut up and back off.

"Ready to leave?" I asked Astrid, willing her to nod and say yes. "The air here suddenly feels so…cheap."

We walked away, my hand slowly approaching necrosis under Astrid's nervous, vise-grippy grip. Astrid stopped, said something in my ear that made me smirk, and turned back around. I walked within earshot, arms folded across my chest, mentally cheering Astrid on.

"Wait, where are my manners?" Astrid announced, sarcasm dialed to 11. "I forgot to congratulate the Man Of The Year."

I watched her pull Michael by the lapel of his jacket in an I'm-gonna-get-you mafia kind of way. I was close enough to catch every delicious word out of Astrid's mouth. Look at kindly Astrid Leong, shutting her former flame and kicking him down several notches.

"Sad and alone? Really, you're going with that, Michael? I mean, when a woman upgrades from CEO of a tech start-up company who can't even break into the Fortune 50 to the heiress of a global chain of luxury hotels, sad and alone aren't exactly the words I'd choose." She let go of his jacket with a nice, subtle shove. "And burn that suit. It looks ridiculous."

I braved one last look at Michael and caught him tugging his suit back in place. Even in the low light, I could see him glowering at us, completely flustered and embarrassed at being one-upped. It didn't help that the people, some of which he was trying to impress, started talking in hushed whispers.

* * *

We waited down the private lounge, while the valet fetched her ride. As she scrolled through her phone, it was my turn to give her a look. A stab of envy pierced through my heart. Only Astrid could make from-the-rack Zara look this cool. I suddenly felt stupid in my much-too-busy Simone Rocha, and felt the urge to go home and dress into something more laidback.

"That was cold, Astrid." I laughed, impressed and a little dumbstruck at what just happened. "You do know there were other people there that saw and heard you, right?"

"I'm sorry I got you into this. I panicked! And you were there. It was either you or 100-year-old Jack Ling! I had one second to decide between someone who hates me, or someone who is a boner away from death!"

"Was the decision at least unanimous?"

She pinched her fingers together and threw me a wink. "It was closer than I thought, not gonna lie."

The thrill of mischief coursed through me, as an idea popped in my head. "You want to twist the knife a little further in? We could have drinks somewhere, and have my personal paparazzi take photos."

"Your personal what?"

"Personal paparazzi. Like an official photographer, but for when you want to generate hype or kill a story?" I said, matter-of-factly, like every other household in the city had a personal pap in tow. "So, you in?"

"Thanks," Astrid said, shaking her head and gently laying a hand on my arm. "But I think it's best that I head home. I think I've troubled you bad enough."

"Trouble? No trouble at all. I mean, you just kept me from accepting my Best-Dressed award, which could have afforded me two minutes to plug our newest hotel in an island off the South China Sea coast, which by the size of this crowd, could have raked in 100 million dollars in revenue on our opening month. But, whatever, right?"

Astrid looked dumbstruck and about to recite a litany of apologies. Not gonna lie, it was cute. "I'm just kidding. 75% kidding. No, wait. 25% kidding."

Her car finally arrived, a dark-blue Acura MDX. Good, she brought a driver. Judging by how much she had to drink, I didn't want to have to chauffeur her to that snooty-ass cabin in the woods at the other end of the city. I beat her driver to it and opened the passenger door for her.

"Now, go on. Have a better night. Even if you hit your head on a lamp post right now, or suffer a mad case of diarrhea from rotten sushi, or barf until the afternoon after all the booze you just downed, it would still be better than watching your ex gloat about his 40 Under 40 Award and whisk around his new girlfriend."

"You know, he'd be 40 in a week," Astrid whispered, as if revealing a secret between friends. Were we friends now? Not by a long shot. But, people made friends in the unlikeliest of places. Maybe this was one of those places. Then again, maybe not.

"His almost-disqualified 40 Under 40 Award, then." I self-corrected. "Good night, Astrid."

I instructed the driver to go a little slowly. "She's a little drunk, but still alright. Please give her two aspirins and don't tell Mommy and Daddy."

"Ha ha."

I closed the door and watched her drive away, a strange sense of disappointment squeezing itself into my chest. The hum of the Acura broke through the air, threatening to fade into the sounds of the city. I waited for the night to swallow the sound, while I contemplated on my own plans. It was relatively early; it wasn't too late to shuttle to Hongkong or Shanghai, party hard with the free-spending China-rich crowd, have mind-blowing sex. Astrid's car didn't disappear, though. It stopped right at the end of the hotel driveway, before going on reverse to where I stood. The passenger window opened halfway.

"If I say yes, where would you take me?"

"Say yes first." I replied, a half-smile on my face, calling her bluff.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

Ten seconds. She bit her lip, probably mulling over her life choices and history of bad decisions. Unofficial statistics would show that, to 80% of those who knew me, I was a bad decision waiting to happen.

"Yes."

She smiled calmly. It dawned on me that I had never seen her smile like this. Not in boarding school. Not in social gatherings. Not in pictures. I mean, bitch held a gag order on all photos of her and made sure her face and name were a hundred miles away from the papers. But, still. Somewhere in my tactless, careless, cold-hearted soul, I felt a tiny circle of warmth.

"OK." The perfect revenge in this situation was go to a place that Michael's money or newfound fame or his dumb-ass pop award couldn't buy. "Name a club that Michael is not a member of."

"Let me think," Astrid said, her brows furrowed in concentration. "He's pretty much in every club. Oh, except the Old Marina."

I called Johnny to meet me at the Old Marina in fifteen minutes.

* * *

"Good evening, Ms. Leong, Ms. Lee. What can I get you this evening?" We chose a private booth and squeezed together on one side. This was more intimate than sitting across each other. Of course, even then, I maintained a considerable distance between us. This wasn't a real date. I had manners.

"I'll have a bellini."

"And you, Ms. Leong?"

Astrid winced and shook her head, gently rubbing her left temple. "I don't think I can handle another drink."

"Try the barako coffee. It's the ultimate cure to a drinking binge."

"Sure, I'll get a cup of that."

"Will that be all?" the waiter asked.

"And salted-egg chips. And greasy fries. And French macarons with the coffee. And…" I palmed a wad of paper bills on the waiter's hand. "Thank you for keeping a secret." Not that he wouldn't rat us out as soon as he made it to the kitchen. It was all calculated, all part of the show.

As we ate and drank, I instructed Astrid to pose for the camera. Move a little closer. Pretend I'm the funniest little piece of shit she had ever had the chance to meet. Brush my fingers while reaching for the macaron. Exchange a few throwback stories to our boarding-school days.

"I hated every minute of boarding school," I lamented. "I was the short, scrawny kid that nobody liked."

"Hey, I liked you."

"You liked everybody, Astrid. You were the bare minimum benchmark of likability."

She gave my arm a backhand slap that stung in a weird, is-it-pain-is-it-pleasure sort of way. "I am not the bare minimum."

"Yes, you are. I mean, permanently sun-kissed skin, a cute little mole right by the corner of your upper lip, those god-awful perfect cheekbones they almost look fake. Bare minimum all over."

"Did you just-compliment me?"

I whistled Rihanna's Wild Thoughts nervously; it was the last song in my head. I shifted my gaze to the sea of yellow lights before us. My cheeks burned as I felt her eyes studying me. Thankfully, she gave up and reached for a macaron.

"This whole personal paparazzi looks really weird to me, Araminta. And even weirder that it looks like normal procedure to you."

"There are many ways to bury a story, Astrid." I replied, with a light chuckle. "You phone in favors. I create gossip. Yours is the shortcut. This is the long-gamey, fun way. Trust me, after we're through, nobody's gonna talk about the 40 Under 40 gala tomorrow."

She drank her coffee, looking more and more sober with every sip. She was on her second cup, a testament to the underrated goodness of Philippine barako coffee. "So, what's the deal with this stealth photographer of yours? I don't know of any other family that had a - what do you call it? - a personal paparazzi?"

I leaned back on the sofa and draped my arm across the backboard. "My mom figured she couldn't mold me into the perfect little obedient daughter every family seemed to have. So, she used my wild child ways to generate hype for the company. Publicity is publicity, good or bad, right? Like right now, we're leading up to the opening of the new hotel. So, I have to go to all the parties and jump through all the social-gala hoops to plug and pap away."

"Where is he now?" Astrid asked, looking around.

"I can't tell you. You'd be too conscious and ruin the shots. But, he's here now."

Astrid laughed. "I feel like we're in a séance with a ghost. Can you ask him to send a message to my grandpa? Ask him where my Ah Ma hides her jewels. I need to grift a pair of heirloom jade earrings to go with these bangles."

"He said he'd be happy to, if you split the loot with him. Until then, he's done for the day and will disappear from the world of the living." I raised my hand in oath. "I will send you the photos. I won't post anything you don't approve of."

"Wait!" She gripped my arm. Wow, why did every grip feel like she wanted to strangle the life out of me? I rubbed the spot where her fingers left a red mark. " Tell him to take one more shot."

"And, do tell, what shot do you have in mind?" I asked, half-amused, half-surprised. I decided to humor her.

After a moment's hesitation, Astrid leaned into me and cupped my cheeks with warm hands. I braced for the same death grip, but the way she held me was the complete opposite. Gentle. Tender. Mere inches separated us, so close I could smell the coffee on her breath. I could sense the quiver in her lips. She held herself at that distance, gaze flitting from my eyes to my cheeks to my lips, searching and waiting for my consent. This was unnecessary. This was overkill. We had Michael Teo's story buried well and good. I should pull away right now.

 _Don't you dare fucking nod, Araminta. Don't you dare._

The rebel that I was, even to my own sensibilities, I met her gaze and nodded. She brushed her lips against mine, the pressure light as a feather, lingering on my lower lip. A sigh escaped my lips as she broke away. I immediately regained my composure, and masked it with a throat-clearing cough and a half-flute swig of bellini.

"For all your troubles," she whispered into my ear, before standing up to leave. "Do with it what you will."


	2. Chapter 2

**Araminta Lee Spotted With Mystery Woman**

 _Credible sources say that Araminta Lee, heiress to Annabel Lee Luxury Hotels and celebrated socialite, was spotted at the Old Marina Yacht Club getting cozy with a tall, dark-haired woman in a beige jumpsuit and cheap-looking bangles. Photos below show Araminta low-key snacking on chips and fries, holding hands and even sharing a kiss with the mystery woman. We all know Araminta's quite the serial dater. But, what about this mystery woman? Who could she be?_

 _And, will we see her at the launch of Paraiso Club, the Lees' newest membership-only resort in a yet-to-be-disclosed location? We'll give you the deets on this evolving story._

I scrolled through the whole website, and cross-checked all the leading news sites in the country. Only a handful posted about The Tattler's gala, and even fewer ran stories on Michael Teo. In one, there was a tiny footnote about it. So short I mistook it for an obituary. Come to think of it, it was an obituary, but for the irrelevant.

My phone buzzed in a message. Of course, of course. Who else could it be?

 **Astrid Leong** : It worked.

 **Me:** Told you.

 **Astrid Leong :** Thank you. Saw the pictures. Johnny's good.

 **Me:** Told you.

 **Astrid Leong :** I can't believe they called my bangles cheap!

 **Me:** Told you that, too.

 **Astrid Leong :** And the plug at the end. Genius.

 **Me:** Tell me I'm good.

 **Astrid Leong :** You're good. Can you be my publicist?

 **Me:** You can't afford me.

 **Astrid Leong :** Uh, last time I checked my books, I'm pretty sure I can.

 **Me :** Cheeky. I like it.

 **Astrid Leong :** What are you doing today?

Trick question. Did I want to see Astrid after that kiss? I was awake until 3 am trying to figure out how I felt about that kiss. Strip everything to fundamentals, it was actually pretty good. Above average. And really really sweet. I couldn't remember the last time I was kissed like that. But, this was anything but fundamental. It was scripted and staged. It was gossip fodder. It wasn't real-real. Worst part of all, of all the people in all the gin joints in all the private yacht clubs, it just had to be Old Money New Generation Rich Like You Couldn't Even Dream Of Astrid Leong who should kiss me like that. My brain overheated just trying to estimate the risk-benefit analysis of being chummy with Astrid.

 _Old money is trouble, Araminta. When will you ever learn?_

 **Me :** Depends on who's asking.

 **Astrid Leong :** I'm asking.

 **Me :** Then OMG I'm so sorry. I'm meeting clients non-stop until tomorrow.

 **Astrid Leong :** Asshole. Come on, let me treat you to lunch.

 **Me:** You don't have to do that, Astrid.

 **Astrid Leong :** It's the least I can do for the hassle I caused you.

 **Me :** Fine. But, nothing expensive. I'm broke.

 **Astrid Leong :** Sell the Costa chain, then.

 **Me :** *gasp* Do not underestimate the revenue power of love motels. People need their sex.

 **Astrid Leong :** You don't have to tell me that. I need iiiiiiiit…

 **Me:** Astrid, sssshhhh, I'm not your friend. Don't say things like that.

 **Astrid Leong:** You're not my friend? :(

 **Me:** No.

 **Astrid Leong :** :(

 **Me:** Still a no.

 **Me :** Stop pouting. Let's make it a late lunch. Text me where.

* * *

A little after 2 pm, I found myself in a non-descript restaurant by the sidewalk, figuring out a way to wolf down bowls of chili crab, golden calamari strips, crispy tofu, seafood fritters, steamed scallops with garlic, and drunken prawns. It was possible that the whole Pacific Ocean was on our table; given Astrid's _small_ fortune, that wouldn't be as impossible as you think.

"Wow, if this is how you say thanks, I should do you favors more often."

"Come on, this is nothing." Astrid said, brushing it off with a dismissive hand, that was also crusted with minced garlic and chili. "Why did you go with it, though? I didn't think you cared."

"I don't. But, there was something assholey about the way he wanted to rub the award in your face. I hate assholes. And I hate Michael's software. Do you know that we're still writing losses for a shortage in Norwegian gravlaks and beluga caviar because his stupid supply chain product suite can't even properly report inventory?"

I cursed, raising a fist for that nightmarish stretch of inventory control chaos. It was punishment, too, for something else entirely. But, I wasn't really in the mood to talk about that. "I did it for the salmon!"

"On behalf of the salmon, thank you." She made a yoga-like, namaste bow.

I picked one of the calamari and popped it into my mouth. "From one of your exes to another, we're moving our system to Charlie Wu's. So far, test drive looks A-OK. All fish eggs accounted for. You have a thing for tech geeks, huh?"

"I didn't realize that. Are you saying I have a type?"

"I once built a billiards game on Excel," I murmured.

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"Nothing! I said I hope you're feeling well." I changed the subject before she could twist my arm into repeating my pathetic venture into programming. "Oh my god, that Charlie Wu of yours. He used to come to our house for playdates, and he would always be so snotty. Drool all over. Look at him now, so handsome and able to manage his mucus."

Astrid cackled, spewing bits of shrimp all around, earning the irate glare of tourists from the other table. The most uptight of them, a man in a wayward beard and thick horn-rimmed glasses, had the gall to shush us. If they only knew that the woman in the dark blue cotton shirt, hair in a loose bun, no jewelry except a tiny crescent of diamonds for earrings, owned the row of apartment buildings behind them.

"You're the only one I know who can put handsome and mucus in one sentence!"

"it's an art you can only dream to acquire." I said, in the most pretentious royal accent I could muster. "You ever regret dumping him?"

Astrid chewed on her bottom lip for a bit. "I did, for a time, yeah. But, it got to a point where I just got tired of it. I can't live my life losing to regret, right? So, I let it go. Like I'm gonna let this Michael phase go, eventually."

"Well, you're single now. You can go back to Charlie."

"I don't know. I think I ought to try something new," she said, squinting at me, a smirk on her face. Did she just - no, of course not. Astrid flirting with me would be as ridiculous as wearing socks with Crocs. Or wearing Crocs in the first place.

She must have sensed my unease and looked away, taking a sip of her tea before picking the last drunken prawn. "How about you? Anyone that got away?"

"Just one," I said, raising a finger.

"Do I know her?"

"Yes. But, I'm not gonna tell."

"Fair enough." Astrid said. She knocked on the table, trying to move us past the impasse. "You know what, I've never been to a Costa before."

"What do you mean, you haven't been to a Costa? Not even for…" I made a V with my fingers and pressed them to my lips, the universal gesture for a smoke. Or was that something else entirely? Oh, god. Did I mix up the gesture? Why was she blushing like an overripe tomato? Oh, fuck. I mixed it up. What kind of flaming lesbian mixed up gestures for a smoke and oral sex?

"What? No!" Astrid said defensively. "What reason would I have to check into a Costa?"

"Right. It's big-ass yachts or go bust with the lot of you."

"Like you don't own the biggest yacht at the marina."

"But, a night at the Costa is a rite of passage!" I deflected.

"Then, my lady, lead me to the passage."

* * *

And, that was that. After a pitstop for fruit pops, I took Astrid to the first hotel my parents ever built. It wasn't as shiny or modern as the other Costas. Truth be told, it wasn't selling well anymore; at this point, we were only keeping it for sentimental reasons. But, it was my favorite, so much that I had a private suite built right on top of it. I loved every bit of it. From the white awning that covered the entrance, to the teal and white paneling in the lobby, to the chintzy attempt at a tropical vibe with an excess of lush plants flanking the main stairway.

After a brief look-see at the lobby, I led Astrid to the private elevator out back, the one I had installed that went straight up to my roofdeck treehouse. 5 bedrooms with a chrome-finish kitchen that I should really be using more often. With glass panels all the way around, it afforded a 360-degree view of the city skyline. All systems – from home theater to air conditioning to toilet flushing - fully automated.

As soon as I stepped into the doorway, Alexa, my home assistant, churned out a litany of greetings.

"Good evening, Ms. Araminta. Remember. You are beautiful and strong and confident. You are amazing. You are awesome. You are wanted all over the world."

"What the fuck?" Astrid looked at me, trying to stifle a laugh, as Alexa recited the recorded affirmations.

"Alexa, switch off." I ordered, but it was already too late. Might as well accept the shame. I turned her back on and asked Alexa for the time. Almost sunset. The perfect set-up, if this were a date. Which it was not. So clearly not. I went to the wine cellar, and picked up a bottle of DRC 1990 before catching up with Astrid by the balcony.

"This is beautiful, Araminta. All my years in this city, how could I have missed this?"

"Told ya. Gotta look beyond the surface sometimes."

"Is that still about the Costa? Or are you projecting?" She took the glass of red wine and lifted it to her nose. "So, do you bring all your dates to this secret Costa suite?"

"Only the ones I like a lot."

"Awwww, are you saying you like me?"

"Are you saying this is a date?"

"Maybe," she muttered under her breath.

"You wish," I muttered back.

We both pretended not to hear each other.

"Ok. Here's a thought." Astrid offered, a toothy grin on her face. She patted my hand twice, aiming for a third before I recoiled it. Her palm made a soft thud against the metal railing. Clearly, whatever was in her head excited her.

"No."

"You haven't even heard it yet!"

"If it's as good as your escape plan last night, I don't want to hear it."

"Ouch, Araminta. You gotta shoot right through my miserable, post-break-up heart."

"You're playing the break-up card? Really? How original."

She placed a hand over her heart, scrunched up her face and pretended to burst into tears. She looked like such a caricature I couldn't help but giggle.

"Fine, fine." I surrendered. "Let's hear you think."

"Right, so the launch of your new club is two months away, yes?"

"The Paraiso Club, yes." Where was she going with this?

"What if… we keep this up until then? Feed the rumors until the launch. That way, you can – what's your term for it, generate the hype? – do that and rake in the millions that I cost you by leaving the Tattler gala early."

Cute. She wanted to be clickbait. But, why? "What's in it for you?"

"Since the break-up, this is the first time I've showered for two straight days. And you agreeing for lunch made that happen." Astrid said, a nervous laugh escaping from her mouth. I knew what it felt like, this attempt to make light of the suffocating weight of a messy and quite public (as public as the Leongs allowed, of course) heartbreak. The vicious cycle of self-doubt, self-blame, self-loathing, that kept you rooted to your bed from sun-up to sundown. The aversion towards going out in public, for fear that you'd be looked at as the fool who thought she could be happy in this life. I was her once; fuck if I let anybody, even someone I had learned to measure myself against, go through that again.

"Bonus that I get to hang out with the one and only Araminta Lee, breaker of hearts."

"Ha! Not scared I'd break yours?" I teased.

"If it's all play, what's there to break?"

My risk-benefit analysis on Astrid Leong just broke. The numbers didn't add up. This didn't make sense. Fine, I thought to myself. If Astrid Leong wanted to play, if that was how she wanted to get over this break-up, then let's play. "Fine, fine. Let's turn your idea into gold. Let's take these fuckers for a trip."

I reached out for a handshake, but she wagged a finger in the air. "One more thing, I get free membership. Lifetime."

"20 % discount." I countered.

"50 and we have a deal."

"40, lifetime, or it's over."

"Deal," she conceded. "Oh, but one more thing."

"You said that 5 seconds ago!" I said, with a slightly annoyed groan.

"I know, but I forgot this important bit."

"What?"

"We're friends now."

"Show me your jewelry collection first. And your art collection."

"Deal."

"And stop gripping me so hard. What are you? On some lesbian finger strength workout routine?"

And, finally, finally, after what seemed like a lifetime of haggling on this mockery of a contract, we shook hands. She held my hand a tad longer, tugging a little when I made to pull my hand back. Was this how Leongs shook hands? Or, was she - no, no, no. Astrid Leong wouldn't flirt with me. But, here she was, piercing through me with a strange and dark gaze. Was she going to kiss me again? My phone buzzed with a call from the concierge downstairs; whether it was a saved-by-the-bell or a ruined-by-the-bell moment, I couldn't quite decide.

"Perfect timing. Paps downstairs right now. Wanna do this?"

As we exited the suite, Alexa droned a casual "Goodbye, Ms. Araminta. Remember. You are beautiful and strong and confident. You are amazing. You are awesome. You are wanted all over the world.", leaving Astrid in a fit of laughter, and me in a fit of picking up what was left of my dignity on the glass tiles of the elevator. Clearly, I didn't think that one detail through well enough.

When we landed downstairs, I caught her by the wrist and pressed the hold button with my free hand. "One question before we go out there: how low does your gag order go?"

She gave me that calm, knowing smile again, twisting my insides into tight little knots. She took a couple of steps and leaned against the back wall, folding her arms across her chest. "Give it your worst shot."

I winked at her, before letting the elevator open to the mayhem, the camera flashes like low-hanging stars exploding right before our eyes. I stepped outside first, head hung low with a scowl on my face, with Astrid not too far behind.


	3. Chapter 3

**Cheap Thrills : Araminta Lee Exits Costa Motel With Date**

 _Araminta Lee, hotel heiress, was seen exiting the Costa in 4_ _th_ _Avenue with her date. The date was the same woman she was caught kissing at the Old Marina Yacht Club last night. The woman, who walked behind Araminta, wore a light blue button-down shirt, cigarette trousers and an enviable cradle of diamonds on her ears. This may look like a cheap date, but it turns out Araminta, who allegedly called the design shots on their soon-to-open Paraiso Club, has a love nest up the oldest Costa in the city._

 _Photos below show the are-they-or-are-they-not pair walk into a sleek, black-and-blue Bugatti Chiron. Will this last until the launch of Paraiso Club, a lush, tropical haven that seamlessly combines nature and top-of-the-line hospitality, in two months? Keep it locked here as we post updates to this juicy story._

After reading the story, I switched tabs and scrolled through the membership waitlist for Paraiso Club. This was astounding. Just yesterday, only 10 – granted, they were Mainland billionaires – expressed interest in the resort. Now, if my eyes were not playing tricks on me, there were 500 on the waitlist. I tried to do the math in my head, but it was too early in the morning to be short-circuiting my brain like this. I switched to the calculator to project the revenue. And, Jesus fucking Christ.

I called Astrid, who insisted she was my friend now. I could do this, right? This was how friendships worked. She picked up after three rings.

"Let's go to Paris," I said.

It was my turn to pay for lunch.

* * *

I booked the Penthouse Suite at the Hotel George V for myself, the Empire Suite just a floor below for Astrid, and one premier room for Johnny, who arrived on a separate flight. After a short evening stroll and a moderate raid of our favorite boutiques, I took Astrid for dinner at Le Cinq. This, of course, came with Johnny-approved photos.

"Ok, he's done. He's going upstairs now."

After taking a sip of her post-dinner coffee, she licked her lips and kissed me on the cheek.

"What was that for? Johnny's gone."

"I know," she replied softly, before pinching both my cheeks in a crab-pincer hold. "But, these are so cute and soft."

"Astrid, you are ruining my street cred."

"What? You mean you're not cute and soft as a marshmallow?"

* * *

After a smoke, I stopped by the 7th floor to walk her to her suite. "By the way, I got 500 and counting on the waitlist. Thank you for the clickbait. I gotta say, Astrid, we make a great team."

She went inside but stood by the doorway, contemplating whether she should let me in or not. I mercifully ended the awkwardness with a hasty goodbye. I walked back to my own suite upstairs, taking in the 360-degree view of Paris. This very room was the main inspiration for my secret Costa treehouse. I sat on the balcony, lit another cigarette and breathed in the crisp air.

 _What are you doing, Araminta?_

 _Nothing. I'm doing nothing. I'm in Paris with a friend._

 _Sure, tell yourself that._

I hated talking to myself sometimes. Thoughts spill out from my brain and clog up my nerves, making my shoulders and neck tense up. I should stop thinking and take a bath. Yes, a nice, long thought-free bath would be good. I unzipped my yellow Jacquemus sun dress and sat on the tub while it filled with water. I sank into a relaxed state, as the massage jets hit all the good spots. I was getting into it, peace coming at last, when a loud knock snapped me back to my senses. Irritated, I pulled one of the towels and wrapped it around me.

"Johnny, come on, man, I'm -"

It wasn't Johnny. It was Astrid in teddy bear jammies, a much-too-sheer tanktop and a small stuffed koala. I instinctively held the towel tighter.

"Can I sleep here?"

"What's wrong with your room?"

"Nothing."

"This suite has only one bed, Astrid."

"So? It's a king bed, and you're small."

"I'm not small."

To prove her point, she placed a hand on her head and then drew a straight line that ended 3 inches above me. I ignored the jab, and went into hotel troubleshooting 101 mode. "Really, what's wrong with your room? Is the light too bright? The aircon not working? The pea under the mattress making you hyperaware of the microfracture in your lumbar area? Do you need warm milk and an ambien to fall asleep? What?"

"You know what, never mind."

She stepped back and dragged her feet towards the elevators. Her back was hunched, her hair ruffling out of the loose bun by her nape. I heard her draw out a long sigh, and I figured out what was wrong with the room. She was alone, when she didn't want to be. No overpriced Scandinavian mattress or bottle of the finest champagne or the spectacular view of the Eiffel tower could ever fix that. I felt like such a jerk. Well, more than usual.

"Ugh, fine. Come in." The words were barely out of my mouth when she came running back with the biggest grin I've ever seen on a grown woman. She placed the koala on my shoulder.

"You can have it. As thanks." She walked past me to the bedroom and plopped herself on the mattress.

"Help yourself with anything. I'll just finish my bath."

"I'll join you, or is the tub for small people only?" she teetered before bursting into laughter.

I flipped my middle finger at her.

Inside the bathroom, I rehearsed how I was going to kick her out gently. I needed to be firm, probably stomp my foot twice for emphasis. I needed to wipe the smile on my face, thinking of her stuffed koala and teddy bear pajamas. I needed to be tough Araminta. I could do this. I psyched myself up.

"Astrid, you need to go." I announced as soon as I entered the bedroom.

My plea fell on deaf ears as soon as I spoke. Astrid was already spread-eagled on the left side of the bed, mouth slightly open. The stuffed koala sat on my half of the bed, the sheets covering its legs. Well, so much for my rehearsal. I sighed and shook my head. I instead piled the down pillows between us like a barrier, and curled up under the blankets.

* * *

The next morning, I woke up to a tangle of limbs pinning me in place. How the fuck was she able to branch out of the pillow barrier? And, holy fuck, why was my hand on her waist? Why was my forehead on her chest? I pulled my hand back and sprung out of bed too quickly, falling onto the soft carpet below. The loud thud woke up Astrid.

I stood up and smoothed the front of my shirt. Acted like nothing happened. This was a normal morning. "Slept well?" I said, keeping my voice level.

"Mmm-hmm. It's always good to cuddle something warm. And small. And something that hugs back." Astrid said, a knowing look on her face. "Anyway, I'm gonna go try a new atelier today. Wanna come with?"

The search for this atelier brought us off the beaten track of high-end boutiques, tourists and Dior-crazed aunties today. The route required walking past YSL, taking a right turn past Cartier, and completely ignoring Hermes across the street. I was about to ask that we head back, when she stopped in front an unlabeled wooden door, sandwiched between a creperie and a dry-clean store. Her knock resembled a Morse code; it was likely a secret code among the clientele.

"Bonjour, this way, please." The assistant bowed, before leading us to an inner sanctum of sorts. Astrid had her fitting for trousers and suits, while I shifted between critiquing her fabric choices and leafing through the season's catalogue.

"That dress is gorgeous. Is that a wedding dress?" Astrid pointed to a half-finished piece, displayed on its own rotating pedestal. I picked up my flute of champagne to inspect the dress up close.

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"I wonder who it's for."

"You might know her, mademoiselle. Katie Chung."

The flute slipped from my grip at the sound of her name. The champagne spilled and fizzled, streaming along the tiled floor. Luckily, the dress was spared.

"Sorry, I-" I stooped to pick up the shards. I ignored a sharp sting that registered from my hand. The gash started dripping blood, turning the spilt champagne pink.

"Araminta, are you okay?" Astrid jumped off her own pedestal to attend to me. She led me to a chair and knelt in front of me. "Your hand is bleeding."

"No, I- it's just a tiny scratch. I just need some air." I breathed until my ribs ached. I checked on my wound; it wasn't such a tiny scratch, after all. A shard must have sliced me the wrong way.

"Here." Before I could object, Astrid had removed the sprinkle-dyed silk scarf on her neck, and wrapped it around my hand. "That should hold for a while."

"I'm going back to the hotel."

"I'm coming with you." Astrid turned to the assistant. "Can we reschedule this? My friend hurt herself."

"No. I just- I need-" All the straight As on grammar and vocabulary, and I couldn't even finish a simple sentence now.

"Do your thing. I'll see you later."

I hurried out the door before Astrid could say another word.

* * *

It was well into the night when I heard Astrid come into the door. I had been lying on the floor all day, save for that minute I let room service usher in the steak and potatoes that I didn't really want to eat. I should have asked where she went, asked to see her haul, asked if she was having a good time. But, it felt like all the life had been sucked out of me at the news of Katie getting married.

"Araminta?"

"Down here." My first words all afternoon.

She plopped on the bed, and scooted until her head was over the edge. She looked over me, and waved a yellow packet of mocha-filled crackers at me. _Hansel_ _crackers_? Where in hell did she get that?

"Those are my favorite!" I screamed in glee, momentarily forgetting the heaviness in my heart. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess. They're my fave, too. I brought them from home. And also instant ramen." From a small paper bag, she whipped out two cups of Nissin, and two cans of beer. "You hungry?"

I took the crackers, but said no to the rest. Nevertheless, she walked to the small kitchen counter to prepare us this dinner that our moms would kick our asses for. _Why are you eating this cheap stuff? They go straight to your gut, Araminta._ I could hear mother in my head mind, so sharply it was as if she were here with us.

 _You are never seeing that Katie Chung ever again._

Mom said that, too.

 _You ungrateful little bitch. After all we've done for you, you're running away?_

And that.

"How's your hand?" Astrid asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I sat up and leaned against the balcony door. I showed her the bandage. It was clean and tight, save for a tiny brown stain right below my thumb.

"Sorry about your scarf. I'll replace it as soon as we get back."

She offered me a steaming cup of noodles, and placed the beer on the ice bucket to cool. "What happened there? I mean, one moment, you were having a grand time bashing all my fashion choices. And then the next, you were absently picking the shards with your bleeding hand."

I absently stirred my cup, blowing over the hot broth. "She's getting married."

"Who? Katie Chung? Took me by surprise, too. But, in a good way." Astrid replied, taking her slow-ass time to connect the dots. "Wait, the girl, that was Katie?"

I nodded, a big, jagged, lump of imaginary rock lodging itself in my throat.

"Right after university, I stuffed a backpack and made my through Europe. I was sick and tired of my life, and I needed to not be Araminta Lee, hotel heiress, for a while. I was on my Scandinavian leg, when I met her at a hostel in Copenhagen. She was going through Europe for the same reason that I was. On the very same route I planned to take. Copenhagen to Bergen, how about that? As you very well know, the Chungs were old money, as old as yours. Probably older."

My voice cracked when I continued. I choked back the sobs, determined not to cry in front of Astrid. This was years ago; why did it still cut so deep? I should have been ok. I was ok. It wasn't a big deal anymore. Until today.

"So, we backpacked together. Did a lot of snuggling in trains. And a lot of mind-shattering sex. And a lot of falling in love. Long story short, things got real. We went back and dated in secret. A lot of weekends holed up at the Costa. Until our parents found out."

"How bad were you in for?"

"Threats to disinherit from both sides, plot to get married in Sweden, 24-7 security detail so I wouldn't escape kind of bad. I was all in, ready to leave all of this behind, and be with her."

Astrid sighed and shook her head. I didn't know if she was empathizing with me or thinking I must be the biggest fool in the whole world. Nevertheless, I continued.

"After sneaking out – don't ask me how, it's a trade secret – and losing my security detail, I reached the airport. I was fucking prepared to ride in coach. In coach, Astrid! That's how much I was in it. I was so scared, but also so thrilled that I was going to live the rest of my life with someone I was crazy for. My mind was there already, in some small apartment in a hip Swedish city. Maybe Stockholm. Or Gothenburg. Or Malmo."

"Did you make it to Sweden?"

I paused, and drew in a sharp breath before shaking my head. "She didn't show."

"I'm so sorry."

She stood up from the lounge chair to sit beside me on the floor. We fell into an uncomfortable silence. Banter was an ill fit to this moment. She played with her cup of ramen before setting it down. Without a word, Astrid moved closer so that our shoulders touched. She tapped her shoulder, gesturing for me to lay my head there. That was all it took for me to bury my face in my hands and burst into uncontrollable sobs. I felt her arms around me, and the brush of her lips on my hair and "shhh, there there, it's going to be alright". She took my wounded hand and kissed it better.

"I hope someday you'll find someone who will show up."


	4. Chapter 4

**_Araminta Lee Traipses Around Paris with Rumored Girlfriend_**

 _Try as she might to lose our tail, we still found Araminta enjoying some R &R time with her rumored and, dare I say, drop-dead gorgeous girlfriend. Avoiding the high-end, touristy shops for a no-name, secret atelier for the fashion elite, Araminta was seen enjoying a glass of champagne while her woman got fitted. _

_I don't know about you. But, this looks to me like it's starting to get serious. Given Araminta's dating history, this girl should have been gone by now. I really hope Araminta does something bold at that Paraiso Club launch. Maybe, introduce this woman or something. Speaking of the Paraiso Club, I heard membership is quite the hot ticket these days (click here for related story). Still haven't gotten yours? Well, if you have some dough to spare, click the link below._

After that not-too-happy ending to our Paris trip, I tried my best to get back to regular programming. I was Araminta Lee, rabble rouser, troublemaker, heartbreaker, god damn it. I didn't weep in five-star penthouse suites over former lovers. I put my head back to the mission at hand : maximum hype for the Paraiso Club. It had been a month since the night at the Old Marina, and the gossip sites were still lapping up our story and Johnny's 'photo leaks'. Props to Astrid's magical gag order for weathering all the worst shots. Evening-to-morning pub crawl in Germany. The classic, rub-sunblock-on-my-back pap shot in the Maldives. Partying it up like Bernard Tai in Vegas. A relatively sober and solemn temple tour in Cambodia. All, of course, were complemented by a visit to the nearest Annabel Lee Hotel in the area. Product placement, people. Dig it. Eat it. Breathe it. Live it.

Astrid, on her end, seemed to have put the whole Michael phase in the rearview mirror, too. A month of romping it up and letting it loose did wonders to her disposition. For one, she showered regularly. She dressed better and better with each trip, her fashion sense in the midst of a post-breakup renaissance. She cracked jokes and was getting comfortable exchanging flirty banter with me. So comfortable. So believable. Sometimes, I had to remind myself that this was all fake. It didn't mean anything.

It meant nothing when she refused to hook up with a German celebrity and instead chose to sober up in an all-night café, trading our most horrible hook-up stories.

It meant nothing when she insisted that we share a suite and a bed and a stuffed koala everywhere we went.

It meant nothing when she bit her lip stifling a small smile the first time she saw me in a bikini. It meant nothing when her fingers trembled while lathering my back with sunscreen.

All these meant absolutely nothing, and it was best for my sanity not to respond. She was old money, I reminded myself. Old money was trouble. If she was setting a spark, it was best not to fuel it into a flame.

* * *

Just for kicks, Astrid invited me to a 5-day social media break holed up in her private island in Palawan. No Johnny. No paps. No staff. Just friends being friends. Astrid's villa was a spacious, whitewashed bungalow perched on a cliff. I kid you not, I didn't know how they built this thing. The veranda that miraculously hung on a rock ledge was a defiance of the laws of physics. Since it was literally just the two of us, we had to cook for ourselves. Luckily, my culinary degree at Le Cordon Bleu staved off death by hunger or thirst.

Palawan was absolutely one of my favorite places to be. Unlike the showy, party-it-up beaches around the world, it demanded nothing of me. All I had to do was lay down on the sand, indulge in all the fresh coconut juice I could drink, and soak up the sun. Ironically, this was one of the few places in the planet that did not have an Annabel Lee hotel nearby.

"Haha, your codename in gossip sites is AssThatLarge."

"What? Let me see!" She scooted over my beach mat before I could say another word, resting her head on my shoulder. I shifted a bit so she could squeeze into half of the space. It was like an oak tree compressing into a bonsai. She placed her hand on mine, and started scrolling the phone herself.

"AsLong? LongAss?"

"That's you too."

"Goddess Of Mercy? Astral Projection?"

"Still you."

"Malaysian Palm Oil? How is that a code?"

"Yep, they know what's up, Astrid." I sat up and reached for the tumbler of coconut juice at my feet. _Don't add fuel to the flame. Keep your distance, Araminta._ "Aren't your parents pissed at you for doing this?"

She merely shrugged, scrolling through the gossip site, thoroughly fascinated at all the Astrid Leong anagrams that these readers came up with. "Not once did I show my face or allowed my name to be mentioned. As far as legal is concerned, AssThatLarge isn't me. Mom has been pinning her hypertension on me of late, and I get an earful every now and then from Dad, but nothing I can't handle."

She sat up, resting on her elbows, still insisting on sharing my one-person beach mat. Astrid tucked her chin into her chest, and started speaking in a croaky voice. "Stop running with that Araminta girl, Astrid! She's trouble!"

"Well, he's not wrong."

"I'm 30 years old. I think I can decide for myself if a person is bad."

"And?" I hated how a part of me hung on to her verdict.

"You're a good egg." Astrid smiled, sitting up and reaching out to give my hair a good ruffle. "Tough-looking shell. But, you're a good egg, Minty."

"Did you just call me Minty?"

"What? Too familiar?" Astrid asked, wide-eyed and worried that she had overstepped.

"No." I shook my head, my insides flat-out melting from the warmth of hearing my members-only nickname fall out of Astrid's lips. "Just right."

She gave my shoulder a playful shove. "Good, because I like calling you Minty. Swim naked with me?" Astrid teased, raising her eyebrows at me.

"Ha!" I squeaked. "You're overvaluing your relationship points, Malaysian Palm Oil."

"Come on!" Astrid stood up and waded until she was neck-deep in the water. I watched her unstring her top off, the little green thing floating like seaweed in front of her. The bottom half followed suit immediately after. She shouted at me, calling me chicken and cawing like one too. With a frustrated groan, I lay back down on my mat and covered my eyes with the paperback Astrid left behind.

 _Stay put, Araminta,_ my mind ordered.

 _The water's cool and she clearly wants you to get in, stop fighting this,_ my body countered.

My heart just sat in its cage, lurching out of rhythm, complicit in its quiet thrumming.

It was safer on the shore. My mind, which was rarely sane and logical, won this round.

* * *

The eve of the launch, everything was all laid out. I had been on the island for two weeks, trying to make sure that anything that could go wrong was resolved before it could actually go wrong. We expected an upwards of 5,000 guests, the crème de la crème of high society all around the world. My projection was that 80% of them would become members. These were promising numbers. My mom had nothing to say but a click of the tongue, which meant I did a bang-up job.

 **Astrid Leong** : Good luck on the launch tomorrow, Minty! Will fly in late. Family lunch and stuff first.

 **Me** : I'm so nervous. What if I fuck this up?

 **Astrid Leong** : Not possible. Believe the hype.

 **Me** : What does that even mean?

 **Astrid Leong** : God, I'm so bad at pep talk. I meant, believe in yourself. And how hard you worked! And don't forget how your good friend Astrid helped you out!

 _I miss you. I wish you were here._

I attacked the backspace button on that last one. My touch screen would say ouch if it could.

 **Me :** What are you wearing?

 **Astrid Leong:** Minty, is that a come-on? Because I don't think our deal has sex on the table. Literally or figuratively.

 **Me** : No, eww.

 **Astrid Leong** : Eww? That sounds a little too harsh.

 **Me :** What are you wearing tomorrow?

 **Astrid Leong:** Not Zara. Don't worry. I won't disappoint.

 _You never disappoint, Astrid._

Backspace, backspace, backspace.

 **Me:** Emergency at the reception hall. Gotta go.

The grey dots danced on the screen. I waited for Astrid's next message. Nothing came.

After attending to the emergency, I retired to my private villa, a Mykonos-inspired suite at the tail end of the island. I reviewed last-minute revisions and ran through the finalized guest list. _Astrid Leong. Charlie Wu. Michael Teo._ Good luck, Astrid, I muttered before letting out a chuckle. I hoped to God the fiasco at the Tattler gala wouldn't repeat itself. I scrolled down until I read a name that I was positive wasn't there before. I rubbed my eyes to check if I was seeing it right. If I rubbed hard enough, it would disappear. But, no, there it was.

 _Katie Chung._

I needed luck. And a stiff drink. There would be 5000 guests. I might not even notice her. She might change her mind last-minute and decide against going. I pinched the bridge of my nose. This was too much to take on the fucking eve of the launch of my first solo project. I walked to the poolside bar and poured myself two fingers of Iordanov, trying to think about how Katie had managed to weasel into this party.

1 in 5000.

0.02%.

That was small enough to be negligible, right?

I gulped down my drink and prayed that it was.

* * *

At last, the launch was all over. Paraiso Club was officially on the map. I took the deepest breath I had taken all day. It felt like I had been holding it in since yesterday. Now, it was socials time. I could relax a little bit. I searched for Astrid in the crowd, and tried to calm my tits about the fact that she wasn't here yet. She did say she was going to be late.

 **Me:** Where are you?

 **Astrid Leong:** Walking to the ballroom. Got stopped for photos that will never see the light of day. Good god, how long is this hallway?

I was about to type a reply – it was 500 meters end to end - when Astrid arrived. A minute in, she was already shaking hands with a pop star, an Olympic gold medalist and a rising politician from back home. I couldn't help but gasp at the sight of Astrid, walking towards me in an aquamarine chiffon halter that seemed to flow like an ocean wave with her every step. Her hair was in a loose fishtail braid that fell over her left shoulder, the subtle highlights and the faint tan lines from our Palawan trip completing the sun-kissed look. Everyone had their show-off piece: a whole choker of emeralds, the latest Patek Philippe, their own secret-atelier couture. But, Astrid swept all of them by the wayside with such ease and grace. She tapped my chin twice before giving me a peck on the cheek. Fuck, my mouth had been open all this time.

"What? Cat got your tongue?"

"I-uh-you don't look so bad." I scrambled for something to say.

She made an exaggerated frown before smoothing the front of her dress. "I made this myself. Try harder, Minty."

"You're fucking gorgeous, Astrid," I said earnestly, a satisfied smile on my face. My cheeks were suddenly warm, my throat dry.

"That's more like it." Astrid said, with a nod. She ran a hand on my dark blue suit, her fingers tracing a line from my shoulders before giving my arm a gentle squeeze. Her touch was slow and deliberate, very unfriendly, spiking up my heart rate to that of a galloping horse.

She hummed. "This looks familiar."

"It's from your secret atelier. I thought I'd make an apology by commissioning six lifetimes' worth of suits."

The lights dimmed to a warm orange glow as the band changed to a slow song. I could hear a Norah Jones throwback amid the din of negotiations, propositions, small talk and flat jokes.

"Do you want to dance?" I asked Astrid, the words stumbling out of my mouth and tripping over each other. I wanted to get them out before my mind could offer up a counter-argument about how this was a bad idea.

"Why are you so nervous?" Astrid laughed, before gripping me by the shoulders. "Also, are you really asking me to dance in front of your mom and dad? And Auntie Elle's gossipy posse?"

"So? Friends dance with each other all the time."

 _Friends._

"I suppose so," Astrid said, looking down at her feet, the pep in her voice disappearing for a bit. Nevertheless, she offered her hand, allowing me to lead her to the floor.

"You look insane tonight, Astrid. Everyone is staring at you, losing their shit."

"Come on, Araminta. That's laying it on too thick."

"No, seriously." I turned her around slowly, so she could see the truth for herself. "Look, there's Charlie. Biting his lip, debating if he should cut this dance short and steal you away. Too good a boy to do that."

"Three o clock, there's Michael, dancing with Patti Stuart-Becker, but looking past her shoulder and right at you. Still picking his suits from the dumpster, I see. It's like his fashion sense left with you."

"And let's not forget Mom's cardiologist," I pointed with my lips. Astrid shifted her head to a 70-year-old man, making the most of the free-flowing first-class scotch. "He has his back to us because he's hiding a boner because you shook his hand."

"What the fuck? That's gross."

"Yeah, he's gross. But, like I told you, everyone's losing their shit."

"Everyone except you," she said, her voice trailing off again.

I bowed my head to the side and snickered. "Well, here's a secret. I had Mrs. Reyes, our master reflexologist, make an anti-charm potion. She's a witch, you know. All I had to do was pluck a strand of gray hair while you were drooling over my shirt in Vegas. And, now, et voila, I'm immune to your charms."

Astrid looked at me with a sigh. I felt her fingers massaging the back of my neck. "Wish I could say the same."

Astrid's gaze wandered lower. Her hands drifted to my waist, the warmth of her touch seeping through my shirt, branding my skin with tiny circles of heat. She shifted subtly, so that her body was pressed against mine. The song died, but neither of us made a move. I drowned in the feverish haze of her eyes. Her lips were so near. And full. And ready. _Damn it, Araminta. Do something._ My heart pounded against my ribcage. I couldn't breathe.

I blinked first.

"I need some fresh air," I blurted out.

She looked disappointed. And a little perplexed. But, in her very Astrid way, she brushed it off and regained her composure. "I need to go to the restroom. But, I'll catch up."

I gave her directions to the glass-dome balcony on the east wing before walking there by myself. It was a starry sky tonight. I looked up and marveled at the thousand pin lights above me. I stood by the ledge, loosely resting my arms over it, shifting my gaze from the stars above to the water below me, breathing with the faint crashing of the waves, muttering crisp curses under my breath.

"You clean up well."

My blood ran cold at the sound of that voice. I knew that 0.02% chance wasn't small enough. How long had it been? Three years of nothing, and she somehow managed to squeak into the guest list of my hotel's launch. I couldn't look, unsure of how I would react seeing her in the flesh. I heard the soft clack of her heels growing closer and closer. I kept my eyes trained at darkness before me.

"Katie."


	5. Chapter 5

"Araminta, can we talk?" Katie said softly, unwilling to match the edge in my voice. I walked two steps sideways, just as she reached out her hand.

"I heard you were getting married."

"I am."

"I saw your dress. Must be worth a lot."

"I haven't stopped thinking about you, Minty."

"Don't call me that."

"I still love you…"

I scoffed. "Some love that is."

"Three years, and you still don't understand. I had to marry him to appease my family and keep things quiet. He's marrying me for the same reason." Katie reasoned. "But, once we're married, Andrew and I agreed, I could do whatever I want. _We_ could do whatever _we_ want."

"So, what, I'm like your kept woman? While you duchess it up in some English castle?"

"Be reasonable, Araminta. You know how our families are, mine especially. You know I had no choice."

That was the lamest excuse, and she knew it. "You did, Katie, you fucking did. You had three flights to Stockholm to choose from. You were just too much of a coward to get on one."

"Araminta, please!"

"We're done here, right? My date will be here soon."

"It's true, then? You're dating Astrid Leong?"

"What if I was? It's none of your business." Granted, it was all for show. But, Katie didn't need to know that.

She pulled me to her, catching me off guard. She placed a key card in my palm. "It's always been you, Araminta. Say you feel the same."

I pulled my arm back and wriggled out of her arms. I pinched the keycard between two fingers and looked at Katie with a smirk on my face. I threw the card out to the bed of palm trees below. "Lost card's a fifty-thousand fine. But I'm sure your castle can pay for the damage."

Just then, Astrid walked in, a bellini in each hand. I caught a brief questioning look in her eyes. But, that was all she gave out. If Katie's presence unsettled her, she did a bang-up job hiding it.

"Am I intruding?"

"Katie was just leaving. Right, Katie?"

"You know where I am, if you change your mind."

I watched Katie pass Astrid and disappear into the corridors. Was it so bad to revel in the defeated look in her eyes? How dare her ask that of me? After three years of silence? I was so mad I almost choked on the piece of strawberry floating in my glass.

"Whoa, there. Slow down." Astrid said softly, gently caressing my back. "What was that about?"

"About how we gotta stop running into our exes in balconies." I said, my joke falling flat.

"What did Katie want?"

"Oh, just a small thing, trivial, not a big deal. Not a big deal at all!" I huffed, pinching the bridge of my nose with my free hand. "She wanted to have an affair with me after she gets married."

"What?" Astrid said, matching my level of incredulity about Katie's proposition. "Is that what you want? "

"God, no."

"What do you want, then?"

I didn't miss the way she asked that question, and where she wanted that question to lead to. I was done fighting this. That slapdash contract at the Costa rooftop ended tonight; a one-night stand should go for one hell of a last hurrah. If we were going back to being rivals and the most distant of acquaintances after tonight, I might as well make the most out of it. It was the last night. What harm could it possibly do? How bad could it possibly be?

I placed a hand on her cheek, and turned her face towards me. I pressed my lips against hers, tasting the sweetness of strawberries, breathing in notes of ylang-ylang and tuberose on her neck. What did I want? I wanted out of this suit and this party. I wanted to be as far away from Katie as possible. I wanted to be in the safety of my villa.

Most pressing of all was this aching need to be with Astrid.

"My villa has an indoor pool with jet streams. And earthquake-proof and sound-proof walls."

"So does mine."

"I know. I designed it. I spent a week in Mykonos studying trusses and archways and acoustics. It was an insightful two weeks, you know. I learned-"

She slipped a hand under my shirt, snaking a path from my navel to the small of my back, up my spine. She kissed me lightly, holding my lower lip with a playful bite. I pressed the kiss deeper, encouraged by a flick of her tongue. I meant to go for more when she pulled back. For a moment, I was struck by the thought that she didn't want me. But one look at Astrid's heavy-lidded eyes proved how wrong I was.

"Are we gonna talk architecture or-"

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

A testament to the sturdiness of these walls? Astrid body-slammed me up against one, before placing her knee against my groin. Look, not even a single dent or flake of paint out of place. _Put your head in the game, Araminta._ All the moving about led us to the long, wooden table in the dining room. Etched from a single piece of driftwood, it was sheer and pure mastery it made you cry. She sat on the edge, as I continued to kiss her. I didn't want to let up now. Needy hands tugged at my suit, my dress shirt, my pants.

"Slow the fuck down, this is couture." I reminded her.

"Couture that I want to rip off you."

And, rip and tug, she did until I was down to my underwear. She stopped and took a step back, leaning against the long glass table. She squinted her eyes, appraising me like a piece of jewelry.

"What?" I asked.

"Five point five." She said with a smirk, wagging a finger up and down.

"Oh, fuck you."

Her rich laugh echoed through the empty villa, filling me with strange warmth at the pit of my stomach. And down below. Way down. I felt it in the tips of my toes.

"Fuck me? On the table?" she asked.

"No. I can't risk having glass shards on my back. Bed, now."

"Good choice," Astrid breathed, expressing her approval with another deep kiss.

We raced each other to the bedroom. I got there first, gloated for a bit, before untying the knot that held Astrid's dress together. The chiffon pooled like a puddle of water at her feet. Standing before me with nothing but a black g-string on, Astrid was every bit her moniker. Everyone called her the goddess. With a little bitterness, I conceded that she was indeed. And, right now, the goddess exercised her powers and pushed me down the bed.

 _No, no, no. Nobody makes a bottom out of Araminta Lee._ I tried to sit up and turn this around, before strong arms pinned my shoulders in place.

"Nope. Not tonight." She clearly had the same idea. "You're the hospitality heiress. Be the pillow princess for once. It's only fitting."

"Are you trying to kill the mood?"

"Hardly," she breathed, as my body responded to gentle strokes between my thighs. I tried to sit up again. No dice. I accepted my fate with a gasp that Astrid silenced with her mouth. Relinquishing control to Astrid was strangely exhilarating. Her tongue darted in and out of my mouth, practically roaming where it pleased. I tamped down a moan when I felt that hot tongue at the rim of my ear. She took my hand and guided it along her body. Her heat coursed through me, as I trailed my fingers from her neck, to her chest, then navel, down to her thighs. From there, she let go, giving me a small nod. _You know what to do._ She leaned against my knees for balance.

I slipped my fingers inside her. My heart almost burst with the electric thrill of discovering how much she wanted me. I watched her move on top of me. My body was starting to build, heart starting to race, mind starting to cloud with thoughts of what it would be like to have more days like this. I willed myself to focus on the task at hand. Or, rather, on the task at my hand. My wrist started to ache with each thrust, as she rode faster and faster. Good god, this would be the most worthwhile wrist fracture ever. Eyes closed, her breath fast and shallow, she bucked up and let out a series of moans before falling on top of me. Her hair brushed against my chest. For a minute, all we did was huff in exhaustion. I reached out to the bottle of water on the bedside table, but Astrid slapped my hand away.

"Who says we're done?"

"Who died and made you the water police? Let me drink. I'm dry."

I felt her hand inside me, a mischievous grin on her face. "Beg to differ."

"Now, since you've been such a good pillow princess…" She kissed me full on the mouth, her tongue again leaving teasing licks on my lips, my jaw, my neck, all the way down to where it burned the most. When she flicked it with her tongue, I moaned and asked for more.

"Please," I said, out of breath, barely able to muster an audible whisper.

"Politeness is so sexy on you. Who knew, huh?" she said. She obliged and did it again, longer, slower, painfully sweet, like she planned to draw every single ounce of strength out of me.

Astrid was right.

We were far from done.

* * *

I woke up to the morning sun filtering through an open veranda. A humid breeze kissed my cheeks. Astrid cupped my chin and kissed me on the lips. She let out a wishful sigh, a tentative smile on her face. I asked her what was wrong. Did she not sleep well? Was it too hot? Too dry? Too humid? Was she hungry? Should we get room service? She shook her head at every question.

"I really like you, Araminta."

"My face appeals to all, yes." I said with an approving nod.

She responded with an even longer sigh. I was starting to panic. An uncomfortably long pause wedged itself between us. She sighed again, probably buying time for whatever it was she needed to say.

"I want to keep seeing you. For real. Not for hype. Not for gossip. For real."

How bad could it be? I did ask myself that last night, with a few drinks and adrenaline in my system. Well, this morning answered that question and admonished me for my recklessness. I rolled away from Astrid, pulled the sheets over me, and sat on the edge of the bed. For some reason, I couldn't do this looking into those eyes. And that face. And the hope it held.

"We had a deal, Astrid."

"I know, but -"

"This was all supposed to be play."

"I get that, but -"

"This." I flicked my hand in a sweeping gesture. "All fake. Remember?"

Astrid huffed in exasperation, her voice losing its firmness. "Tell me you don't feel the same way."

"I don't feel the same way."

She stood in front of me, arms at the side, palms open. She was as open and vulnerable as I had seen her. She was wearing my shirt. "Look at me, and tell me that it was all for hype. At least look at me in the eye that you want me gone."

"I can't do this, Astrid." I said, staring into her eyes like she wanted.

"Can't? Or won't?"

After eliciting no response from me, she picked up her clothes and ran to the bathroom to change. A small part of me kept rallying, kept urging me to stop her from leaving. But, an even bigger part replayed that night at the airport. Waiting for Katie as my hopes got dashed with every boarding call. Admitting defeat while my mom's security escorted me out and took me home. Nursing a heart that broke every single time Katie dropped my calls. Telling myself never again would I allow myself to get close. Never again with these old money types and their rules of engagement and their impossible standards.

"Astrid, don't leave like this." I pleaded, as she approached the door.

"And how am I supposed to leave, Araminta? With a thank you note on the fucking hotel stationery? 'Thanks for the fuck'? Is that what you do?" Tears welled up in her eyes, and it took all my restraint not to reach out and wipe them away.

"Not everyone's Katie Chung," she said, as if reading my mind. "I sure as hell am not."

I kept my silence, frozen in place by fears that I thought were long-buried and vanquished. Obviously, I thought wrong. She held the doorknob in her hand before turning to me, maybe for the last time.

"Nicky's in town next Sunday. I'll be at the Old Marina for brunch." Astrid gave out a chuckle, halfway between a scoff and a sob. "Why am I even bothering? It's not like you're gonna change your mind."

I heard the soft padding of footsteps, the slam of the heavy wooden door downstairs, the pathetic gurgle of the golf cart, and then silence. Right in this secluded spot of the island, I was an island in and of myself. I buried myself under the pillows and sheets. I cursed out loud when I breathed in, the heartbreaking fact hitting me right in the face. Everything, everything – the bed, the sheets, the villa, my skin, my heart – everything had Astrid in it.


	6. Chapter 6

_Where's Araminta?_

 _It looks like our favorite hotel heiress has gone off grid after quite a successful launch of Paraiso Club. Gone with the wind is that beautiful mystery woman she had been jetsetting all over the world with. Are they…done? What a shame. That was such a ride, one I thought would go on for far longer than it did._

I knew I was wasting whatever good favor I curried during the launch. I should be responding to offers on my phone. Investments on new developments. Collab projects. Charity events. Dinner dates. One-night stands. I should be out and about, soaking in my achievement. I should have been on the second highest high of my life, second only to that shroom-hazed night at the Arizona desert during Burning Man.

What I shouldn't be doing was this : binging on medical drama and terrible Netflix slasher flicks, blocking all calls, holing up at the Costa in 2-day-old sweats, stewing like yesterday's garbage. From time to time, the thought of calling Astrid would occur to me. _Just say you're sorry, Araminta._ Hey, we could at least be friends. What was I saying? After what I did, I wouldn't even want to be friends with myself.

"What day is it?" I asked lazily, popping another salted-egg potato chip in my mouth

"It's a Sunday, Araminta."

It was this Sunday. Astrid at the Old Marina, playing hostess to her cousin Nick. I tried not to think about it. I should just let it pass. This would pass. Ugh, like a bad bout of constipation, it didn't pass.

"Tell me what to do, Alexa."

"You don't have anything on your calendar today."

"Alexa, should I go to the Old Marina?"

"Checking reservations for Old Marina Yacht Club." After ten seconds, Alexa announced, "The Old Marina Yacht Club is full. Recommending nearby restaurants."

My laugh rang hollow, the echo indicating how empty this suite was, how empty I was. I had done pretty stupid things in my life, but entrusting my lovelife to a virtual assistant was a new low. Of course, I knew it wasn't about booking a reservation at some club or hotel. I was Araminta Lee. I could show up in a trash bag and Ugg boots, and they'd still let me in. It was my own heart that had reservations. It was my own mind that kept me from telling Astrid to stay, the same mind that kept me from walking out this souped-up glass prison I made for myself. I saw the faint scar on my hand, from that incident in Paris. I drew circles around it, remembering how Astrid kissed it better over and over again.

 _I hope you'll find someone who will show up._

What good would that do if I was afraid to show up for myself?

I stood up and showered for the first time in two days. I called downstairs to get the Chiron ready. I rummaged through my walk-in closet for something to wear. Something that said, I'm sorry I was such a relationship-averse coward. I debated between an attention-seeking Marc Jacobs pear-print wrap-dress – pears were cheerful, right? - or a simpler, more sober Marchesa off-shoulder piece in light pink. I took a breath and slipped into the Marchesa. I didn't need the attention; this time, I wasn't doing this for clickbait.

* * *

Did she really have to choose Sunday, of all days? Sunday brunch at the Old Marina was a jam-packed affair. One look at the spacious dining hall, I could already spot the snootiest families in their best lunch attire. Any event that broke the peace and order would surely be plastered on the news sites faster than you could say 'scandal'. I walked around, shook hands and greeted people I knew, while craning my neck in search of Astrid's table.

I reached the edge of the indoor dining area and finally found Astrid outside with her cousins and friends. Her Yuliya Magdych blue-and-white dress stood out from the boring and sober Sunday's best attire. The colors reminded me of my villa in Paraiso Club. They were lounging on the pastel-yellow sofas, cigarettes burning in ashtrays, conversing over fresh seafood – too heavy for brunch, but whatever - and wine. I recognized Nick and his wife, Rachel. Colin Khoo. Alistair Cheng. Peik Lin. I waved a curt hello, trying to hide how feeble and unsure I felt inside. The conversation reduced to a hush. The party tried to focus on something else - small talk, the ferry passing through the bay, someone's new bling - anything to avert their eyes from the light-pink hot mess who may have fucked the one good thing that had fallen in her lap for ages.

Astrid turned to look at me. Her glare was cold and unforgiving. She refused to say a single word. No matter how terrified I felt, I met her gaze.

"If I had said yes before, what would you have done?" I asked. No response. Her face gave nothing away. Not even that tiny smirk she would give when something amused her. "If I say yes now, what would you do?"

"Say yes first." Astrid said, her lips pursed into a thin line.

"Yes," I muttered between gritted teeth.

"Did you hear anything from back there, Nicky? No?" Astrid shrugged, before staring back at me. "Probably just a gust of wind, then."

I looked around the table, and out over the horizon, before focusing back on Astrid. _Come on, say it,_ one of them hissed. Or probably it was my subconscious manifesting itself into sound waves. My chin held up, my throat closing up, I realized that a part of me still resisted this. A tiny voice was saying that I was making a fool of myself. Again. I was holding on to my pride. I was holding on to my fear of getting my heart broken. I was holding on past wounds, when I should be letting go. I should let go, and admit that I like Astrid almost as much as I like salted-egg potato chips. I took a deep breath, cleared my throat, and spoke as if a megaphone replaced my voice box.

"Yes, I really like you, too, Astrid. Yes, I want to be your girlfriend, Astrid. Yes, yes, yes, one hundred times yes."

The murmurs started building up like a crescendo, like a wave coursing across the dining area. The cameras snuck out of their cozy pockets and Gucci purses. Some decorum-breaking assholes even had their flash and click effects turned on. I felt their attention on my skin, which started to prickle up. Oblivious to it all, Astrid stood up, lording her three-inch height advantage over me, that calm and knowing smile on her face.

"I heard you the first time."

"And I'm sorry for pushing you away. I was a jerk. I promise not-"

Before I could say anything else, she pulled me by my dress and kissed me. And, not in a cheapie, quick peck way. In an I've-missed-your-stupid-face-now-I-won't-end-this-kiss way. She kissed me in front of her cousins and friends. In front of all the gossipy old people who wanted a piece of tonight's news. In front of the Sunday brunch crowd. It was 99.99% certain that at least one of them had tipped off our parents by now. It was a power move, a fuck-you move. More than that, her kiss felt like hope. It felt like forgiveness. It felt like my world was readjusting into chaos; an uncertain and random chaos that I was willing to brave and show up for.

After what seemed like a never-ending kiss, she ruffled my hair, linked hands with me and asked me to sit beside her on the sofa. She kept ignoring the murmurs, so I tried my best to shut them out, too. My heart leapt out of my chest when she introduced me as her girlfriend. Suffice to say, my whole body liked the sound of that. I liked it very much.

"Now that you really like me, and this is our first real date, you're going to have to take me to the Costa."

"Way ahead of you. The suite's being cleaned as we speak."

"Oh, and one more thing," Astrid gestured for me to lean closer. I watched her lick her lips before whispering into my ear. Below the murmurs. Below the tension in the air. Below the discreet taps on phones, still desperately trying to be the first to get the word out that Astrid Leong and Araminta Lee were now a thing.

"You get to be top tonight."

END


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